


A Spiked Fever Dream

by Ecoutez



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 11:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecoutez/pseuds/Ecoutez
Summary: @NerdWithoutGlasses19 posted a brief Hiccstrid fic idea, and I volunteered to write it. Here it is, a drabble based on the following prompt:Hiccstrid fic ideaThe two of them aggressively making out at the Smithy, and Hiccup pushes Astrid against his desk or lifts her off and places her on it. They start to hear people approach but the spikes ob Astrid’s skirt gets stuck on the wood and she cant get offSource: https://listentoyourdragon.tumblr.com/post/175451734709/hiccstrid-fic-ideaMany thanks to NerdWithoutGlasses19!





	A Spiked Fever Dream

**Author's Note:**

> @NerdWithoutGlasses19 posted a brief Hiccstrid fic idea, and I volunteered to write it. Here it is, a drabble based on the following prompt: 
> 
> Hiccstrid fic idea
> 
> The two of them aggressively making out at the Smithy, and Hiccup pushes Astrid against his desk or lifts her off and places her on it. They start to hear people approach but the spikes ob Astrid’s skirt gets stuck on the wood and she cant get off
> 
> Source: https://listentoyourdragon.tumblr.com/post/175451734709/hiccstrid-fic-idea
> 
> Many thanks to NerdWithoutGlasses19!

The sun was low across the horizon, shadows slanting over the water. The loose boards of Hiccup’s workroom wall sliced the sunlight into narrow columns he walked through again and again, entertaining himself as he worked.

“Hiccup!”

He turned, his heart lifting into his throat like it always did at the sound of her voice. “Over here, Astrid.”

Her voice grew closer. “Gods, it’s hot in here.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“I know.”

“It’s a forge.”

“I know, I know, just….” Her voice broke off when she ducked into the doorway of his workroom.

“Hi.” He smiled at her, then out of habit turned to look for a shirt to pull on. As Gobber had told him a thousand times, it wasn’t appropriate for him to be dressed in only leggings if Astrid, or any woman from the tribe, were in the forge.

Even though, as he’d just said, it  _was_  a forge. Clothing was usually an annoyance.

Astrid leaped forward before he could grab his shirt, throwing her arms over his shoulders, a kiss momentarily interrupting the brilliant smile on her face. “Thank you.”

His arms wound around her and he stepped back, pressing his metal leg into the wood below him to steady himself. “Whoa. For what?”

“You fixed the catapult.”

“Oh, yeah, this morning. Still working?”

She slid her hands down the sides of his neck. “Sure is. And you’ll never guess who decided to test it out.”

“Oh, Gods. The twins?”

“No, they’re in the forest clearing trees.”

His fingertips idly traced the valley of her spine.“Snotlout? No, he’s in the stables.”

“He’ll be there awhile. Hookfang spilled a  _lot_  of nightmare gel on the floor.” She followed the line of freckles across his collarbone with the side of her thumb, watching goosebumps appear.

Hiccup shifted his shoulders and grinned. “Better that the twins clear trees for a few more days, then.”

She nodded. “Keep guessing.”

His eyes looked across the room, unfocused as he thought through the list of people who’d want to test a catapult into the water on a hot sunny day. “Not Fishlegs.”

“Never Fishlegs.”

“Gobber?!”

Her grin lit the room. “Yep. Launched himself past the sea stacks. Grump pulled him out of the water so he could do it again.”

“That’ll start a dangerous trend.”

“There’s already a line of people ready to help with the testing.”

Their eyes met, both smiling. Then their smiles faded in the still, close silence. Their gazes held, each communicating silently to the other in a wordless language they’d perfected over years of practice.

_Is everyone…?_

_I…think so?_

Astrid’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she glanced at his lips.

Hiccup’s throat worked as he tried twice to speak, his mouth having gone dry.

“Fishlegs?” His voice cracked. It hadn’t done that in years. But with the tight slide of Astrid’s fingers over his bare shoulders he didn’t care. Much.  

She moved a fraction closer, the tip of her nose moving along the scruff at his jawline, her breath warm against his neck. “In the academy, drafting flight plans.”

He looked down at her face, close to his, both of them mentally scanning the village for anyone who might be looking for them.

She smiled.

Then his hands thrust into her hair and pulled her to him. Her fingernails scraped his chest, over his nipples. He gasped into her mouth.

After so many years, and so many stolen moments, they both knew how to accelerate one another. Intensity, joy, and forbidden opportunity mixed to increase the speed of their movements, and the pace of their breathing.

“Are you sure?”

His leggings were loose, as always, around his hips. Astrid sent a quiet thanks to any of the gods who might be listening, and followed the fabric around his sides, sliding her hands down to pull him closer. “Definitely sure.”

He laughed, a low chuckle as her teeth traced the muscle down his neck.

“What?”

His hands pulled her shirt from beneath her skirt, the rough slide of the fabric making her shiver, the perfect pressure of his fingertips across her abdomen making her gasp.

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever…”

She froze between scorching kisses and frantic effort to remove her armor. Clothing was such an annoyance. “In here? We must have.”

“No, we haven’t. Not…everything.”

She met his eyes as she felt her braid loosen. He loved to unwind her hair as much as she liked braiding his. She raised a brow. “Really?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I’d, uh, I’d remember.”

“Ok, then.”

As she jumped toward him, he lifted her, her hands finding his biceps as he turned and threw her down onto his work table. She laughed as he devoured her neck, his touch incendiary and just past the border of tickling her.

His hands found the clasp of her skirt and the air between them changed, became even more heated and tense. They knew so easily how to make each other fly.

Astrid placed her hands on either side of her and tried to lift her hips so he could remove her skirt.

She couldn’t move.

His hand slid across her lower back. His voice was a whisper against her neck. “Lift up.”

“I…I can’t.”

“Wait, what?”

“I….” She tried again. Her skirt held fast to the desk. “I’m stuck.”

Eyes wide, he stepped back to look. “You’re…how are you stuck?”

She tried shifting to one side. It didn’t work.

“The spikes of your skirt?”

She stared at him as they both pulled on the sides of her skirt. It didn’t budge. The metal studs had perforated the scatter of new paper he’d left on his desk and driven deep enough into the wood that she was fused to the surface. She started to laugh just as he did, and it made them both clumsy, bumping into one another when moments before their movements had been fluid and intense.

“How did you?”

“ _Me_? It was you, not me. You tossed me up here.”

“Your skirt….” He crouched below the desk and ran his palm along the underside of the wood. He then started to laugh so hard he tipped backwards on to the floor. “It’s gone completely through the wood.”

“I’m aware of that.” She tried to sound angry but missed. Pulling at the leather to dislodge the spikes accomplished nothing.

He stood up to examine her skirt. Sunlight painted stripes across his back, lighting up the acres of freckles that were scattered across his skin.

“I cannot believe this.”

He shook his head.

“Hiccup. I can’t get off!”

He was not successful in biting back his laughter.

“This is not funny.”

“This is hilarious.”

“You’re not the one stuck to a desk!”

They only laughed harder.

“Wait, where’s your axe?”

“You are not using my axe to chop off my skirt.”

He wiped tears off his face with the side of his arm and shook his head. “No, to use as a lever, maybe.”

“I didn’t bring it.”

“Maybe a hammer?” He found one on his table, tried tapping the metal back through the desk, but it didn’t work. “Oh, Gods, they really are stuck.”

“You’re stronger than I thought.”

He shrugged in response. His ears burned red at the tips.

“I guess I live here now,” Astrid said, trying to wiggle free unsuccessfully.

“That’s not so bad.” His quick grin, so intimate and so uniquely his, spun her heart in her chest.

“Except that I can’t get out of my skirt.”

“Okay, yes, that part is bad.”

His expression turned thoughtful, eyebrows lowered over narrowed eyes as he puzzled through the options.

Then a loud, unmistakable voice reached them through the outside wall. “Hiccup? I told you. He’s in the forge, like always.”

He paled just as she looked down at him. “Oh, no.”

Another voice, louder than the first. “Shut up, Ruffnut, he is not.”

“No, I’m not. I’m most definitely not in the forge,” Hiccup muttered as they both frantically pulled at the leather, stretching the panels. She heard paper ripping beneath her. 

“Oh, no. Hiccup, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He pulled at one panel of her skirt, dislodging two of the metal spikes - when had they become so sharp? As more voices collected around Ruffnut and Tuffnut, Astrid became frantic and pushed his hands away.

“Grab your shirt and get out of here. Stall them at the door.”

With a nod, he left the room, shutting the door behind him. A crowd of voices greeted him, and he crossed the forge toward the front entrance at a run.

The next few hours were a blur. Hiccup discussed Fishlegs’ flight plans, promised the twins he would meet them in the woods later, gave Snotlout a few non-flammable tools to help with the cleanup, sharpened two knives, went over a saddle order, and told Gobber where to find the repair metal for the catapult, which had broken down again after a fifth or maybe tenth time testing it.  

Once the steady stream of loud, eager vikings with nowhere else to be at that moment had left the forge, and no one else arrived, Hiccup backed slowly toward his workroom.

It was empty. She was gone, skirt and all.

How she managed to escape without anyone hearing or seeing her, he had no idea. How she’d managed to pull herself off his desk without ripping her skirt in half, he didn’t know that either.

But for weeks afterward, Hiccup took every opportunity to use a strange new stash of paper with a pattern of holes in the surface, especially when Astrid was around.

She received a number of compliments on her new skirt, too.


End file.
